


House and Home

by TryingCrying



Series: One Man Mob [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Drowning, Hurt/Comfort, Like I got on twitter to see if anyone would tell me, Major Character Injury, Near Death Experiences, OSCARS AUNT DOES NOT HAVE A NAME AND IM HELLA BITTER, Oscar Pine deserves better, Oscar Pine protection squad, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Volume 6, Whump, and so far no, it's so late, like this is sad and im sorry, no anything we die like men, no shipping to be found here, seriously this got way darker than I thought it was going to be, trust me i'll edit this if she ever gets a name, until then it'll just be some awkward writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 22:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18107765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingCrying/pseuds/TryingCrying
Summary: Oscar isn't as alone as he once thought. He has a huge adoptive team/family, and Ozpin isn't as gone as he once thought. It might take a near death experience for him to realize all of this, but he isn't alone.





	1. Chapter 1

The casserole had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Oscar had needed some space. Someplace where the air wasn’t taken up by someone breathing down his neck. He didn’t want the quiet because it would help him think, he needed it to stop thinking. And usually that meant locking himself in the kitchen until his only worry was how to substitute what ingredients he didn’t have.

When the others returned it was like a tornado sweeping through. There was hugging and whispering and yelling and someone had been trying to lecture him through all of it. Oscar tried to pay attention. But he was distracted his own growing loneliness, even in a room cramped with people. It was overwhelming, like they were all voices inside his head, even though he was just supposed to have the one. And Oz was currently M.I.A. Oscar set the table in stubborn silence, trying to stay out of reach of his own guilt.

“This is delicious, Oscar.” Saphron smiled at him, reaching over the table to serve herself more.

“What?” Oscar looked up, eyes roaming over the table because he couldn’t tell who had spoken.

“Thank you for cooking.” Saphron said, waiving the spoon so that it caught his attention. She was blessedly unphased by his strange behavior.

“It’s nothing.” His ears grew hot. “It’s a family recipe. I remembered most of it, but—” He frowned at his own plate. “It tastes a little different when I make it.”

“It’s perfect,” Ruby smiled. He recognized it as the face she put on to look reassuring, even when she didn’t feel it. Oscar was very familiar with it.

Oscar inspected his reflection in the flat side of his spoon. He was the only one looking back, eyes tired and distant. He tapped the spoon against the table idly, wishing it would change who he saw there. He might be the only person ever to feel crazy for _not_ hearing voices. And the only thing worse than hearing voices was being abandoned by them.

Weiss had been saying something directed at him, but he didn’t tune in until it was too late.

“What?”

She leaned closer to him and repeated herself. “You should cook more often, Oscar.”

Qrow nodded, showing his agreement by shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

“Oh.” An apology was halfway out of Oscar’s mouth before he registers that there wasn’t any anger in her voice. Yang laughed to his left and only then did Oscar understand she’s just trying to tease the others.

He tried to laugh too, but it sounded more like a sneeze. When he looked up the others were still watching up, expecting a response. Right.

Of all the setbacks he’d been expecting, losing Ozpin’s experience in regard to social situations had hit him hardest.

“I uh…used to cook a lot, back home.” He pushed the food around his plate, suddenly uninterested in actually eating it. “But my aunt would always make this for me when I got sick.”

“Well, she certainly knows her way around comfort food.” Terra is too busy feeding Adrian small bites to make eye contact, but Oscar can hear the warmth in her voice. “This reminds me of something my mom made ages ago.”

“It’s even better when the all berries are in season.” Oscar put his spoon down, covering it with a napkin so he didn’t have to see his own dishonest smile staring back.

“Do those come up in summer?”

“Usually. Some of them not until fall. Around harvest season.”

Terra still wasn’t looking at him so she missed the change in his expression. “Last time I cooked this my aunt made fun of me for talking to myself. I mean, then I wasn’t really talking to myself. I’d cook and talk to Oz sometimes, back while he was trying to convince me to leave.”

It felt like lifetimes ago.

“It’ll be harvest season again soon.”  Oscar blinked, wanting to snatch his words back out of the air like a handful of dandelion seeds.

“Oscar? What’s wrong?” That was Ruby’s voice, but she sounded farther away and Oscar couldn’t tell if it was a trick of his own mind or not. She saw straight through him, recognized what he looked like when he was biting back words. “Just talk to us. Please?”

Who was he to deny that request? He swallowed and his mouth tasted all wrong. “She can’t do it by herself, she needs help and I’m not there and I….” He curled a hand around his coffee mug to keep it from digging into his neck. It was so hot his hand felt like it was burning but he didn’t move it. Couldn’t move it. Couldn’t move.

“Oscar—”

“I abandoned her.” His voice shook like it was the first time he’d thought of it. Like the word hadn’t been burning a hole in his gut since the day he left.

Someone took a breath to speak but he beat them to it, the words gaining momentum now.

“She never wanted any of this. A farm, or raising kids, or me. But she had to. She had to and I left. My parents are buried on that farm and I left.”

He was crying. When had he started crying? Fat tears dropped onto his half-finished casserole.

“Who’s going to help her? Who’s going to be there with her to put flowers on their graves before it snows? Or remind her what kind was dad’s favorite. She’s just one person, she can’t do it alone. Someone has to help her. And I don’t know if I’m coming back.”

Once he was silent the only sound to greet him was uncomfortable shifting. A pang of guilt held him still as he tried to collect himself. He hadn’t wanted to cry in front of everyone, especially at what was supposed to be a celebratory occasion. He’d made the casserole to cheer everyone up.

He put his forehead against the cool hardwood of the table. That sort of muffled the sound of his sniffling, but more importantly it meant he didn’t have to look at anyone. It meant he could pretend he’d just been talking to himself in his aunt’s kitchen. That he hadn’t just said all of that out loud at all. Much less in front of this group of people. Much less when he was just supposed to the vessel for who they really needed. Like a vase to put flowers in.

There was a hand on his shoulder. It was small; delicate but not soft. The voices above him were just a swirl of sound, but he recognized Ruby by her smell, not her voice.

Ruby wrapped her arms around his crumpled form and homesickness pulled him under like a riptide. He was no stranger to this feeling, but here he felt too exposed. After months of wishing, he was finally alone in his own head and even then, he just _had_ to break down in public. His breathing picked up again and Ruby hugged tighter.

The longer it went on the closer it got to being funny. Wouldn’t Oz be just livid if a heart attack was what took Oscar out and made him start all over.

The others waited. Even the most impatient among them staying silent until he’d cried himself out.

“Come on. We could all use some fresh air.” Ruby smiled at him, and he’d never been so grateful to anyone for ignoring the fact that he was crying. “Let’s go for a walk.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Oscar floated through the streets, detached and weightless like he was a balloon tied to Ruby’s wrist.

Everyone had jumped at the idea of a walk when Ruby suggested it. A sudden laundry list of necessary errands appeared out of thin air. Oscar wasn’t so oblivious that he didn’t know it was all for his benefit.

Ruby waited until the others were all engrossed in some new scroll technology to pull Oscar aside.

“Your aunt really cares about you.” She told him—unprompted—while pretending to read the back of a book so they didn’t have to make eye contact.

“Thank you.” He meant it for so many reasons. “Qrow really cares about you and Yang. All of you, really.”  He watched the oldest member of their strange little party lean over Lie’s shoulder to have something explained to him.

Ruby nodded, eyes wrinkling at the corners with a smile as she watched her Uncle. He’d never wanted kids either, but somehow he’d ended up with a lot of them.

“But my aunt can’t turn into a bird. Just for the record.” Ruby snorted and Oscar grimaced. “Sorry, Ozpin never really cared for my jokes.”

“No, no. I like your sense of humor too.” Ruby put the book back on the shelf. “Our families are weird, aren’t they?”

He knew that she meant all of them, not just the ones that were her blood. “I know.”

“Your aunt’s magic is that casserole recipe. You don’t pass that on to just anyone. You only share it with people you really care about. She might not be able to tell you right now, but I know she loves you.” Ruby squeezed his shoulder, just once, before slipping back into the conversation to pull Weiss away. They chatted excitedly about something in the window, faces pressed up against the glass.

Oscar stood where she’d left him, fighting tears and watching the others pretend not to notice.

He would have spotted the Grimm earlier if he hadn’t been crying.

It wasn’t unusual for a few Grimm to be nearby. It was a large population and all, but the guards usually made quick work of those unlucky enough to stumble into their range. There wouldn't be this many unless something had happened to the guards. 

The sight of so many flying over the city was unusual at first, the horrifying the numbers grew to fill the skies. 

For a long moment no one did anything but stare, shocked into inaction. The Grimm weren’t close enough to be a danger yet, but everyone had a hand on their weapon before anyone gave an order to.

“DOWN!” Qrow was the first to react, and it was only because of him that they were all in motion when the glass storefront behind them exploded outward. A hail of sparkling shards rained down. The shattering glass was dangerous, but the idea that it was a distraction for something bigger was much worse. 

Someone’s hand was on his wrist, pulling Oscar to his feet.

“Run!” Nora’s voice cut through the ringing in his ears. Oscar watched the sky as he was dragged away, watching the Grimm swoop towards them.

They darted through side streets and over walls at a pace Oscar could barely keep up with. He reached for his staff but almost fumbled it.

There was another blast and he screamed for Nora. But she’d let go of his hand; swallowed by a billow of smoke.

Oscar dropped to his knees as the hot smoke rolled over him too. He only found the latter of the fire escape because he’d run into it headfirst. On instinct he pulled himself up and made a grab for the upper rungs. He had only made it about halfway before someone grabbed his ankle and pulled him back.

Oscar shouted something he knew he wasn’t supposed to. He’d heard Qrow say it once after banging his shin on the coffee table. His aunt would have grounded him for a month for repeating it, but in the moment it wasn’t a priority problem.

He spluttered and kicked back at his attacker, but the blind swing connected with empty air and only served to further throw him off balance. He tumbled the rest of the way down off the latter.

A boot came whipping past his head, and Oscar only partially managed to avoid it. He took the hit on the ear, and looked up to see Emerald’s face swimming through spots of white. He rolled to the side of avoid another hit, but she was just as fast and less disoriented by the explosions.

He tried to pull himself to his feet, tried to run, tried to block what he could of her anger. There was no way he could take her on in a full force fight. But she was expecting him to run, and so was careful to never give him the chance.

The Grimm circled closer.

Hands closed around Oscar’s neck. He pushed back, but the force of Emerald’s grip cracked his head back against the wall behind him. He lost precious air to a gasp of surprise and pain.

“You’ve caused us a lot of trouble.” Emerald hissed at him. He was surprised by the tone in her voice. That wasn’t just an empty threat, he believed her.

One of her hands closed into a first around his hair. She dragged Oscar, undignified and frightened, out of the alley. “Come on.”

“GET OFF!” He shouted, trying to twist out of her grip. The adrenaline now pulsing through him lent him some extra strength, but he couldn’t get enough leverage to break her grip.

“You’re going to regret it.” Oscar stared up, made mute by horror helpless as she yanked him into the main square.

It was the fountain. Their destination was the fountain. Oscar kicked out, desperate already. His heel connected with the stone road and he heard something pop.  Pain, hot and sharp jolted from his heel all the way up his spine.

“You’ll behave now, right?” She shook her grip against his collar for emphasis. “Stay nice and quiet and out of the way so that we can have a little chat with Ozpin. Won’t you?”    

Oscar wasn’t going to escape this with a quick and painless death. Emerald didn’t want to kill him at all, and somehow that was the most terrifying realization.  

Emerald clicked her tongue at him. “Ozpin really would have been better off dead.” She forced Oscar onto his knees, his own terrified reflection staring back at him from the still water. He hoped the anticipation of the cold water would be worse than being held under. He was wrong.

“You—” But Oscar couldn’t get the words out before Emerald put a hand against the back of his head and plunged his face into the freezing water. The shock of the temperature change made his temples ache. He fought to pull backwards, jerk his head above the surface, but Emerald’s grip was strong and sure.

“Where are the relics?”

“I don’t—” but he didn’t have time to finish before she shoved his head under again. Oscar came up gasping, trying to talk but only managing unintelligible gasps.  

Drowning was disorienting. He didn’t know which way was up. Couldn’t tell which way to struggle to find air. Couldn’t make her let go. His sinuses burned. The lack of light burned. His own panic burned his chest.  

“The _relics,_ Ozpin!” she shouted, and didn’t give Oscar a chance to answer before plunging him under again.

It dawned on Oscar then, in the murky light of the fountain water. He had never been expected to answer her interrogation. He was just the stepping stone to Ozpin. Like a broken flower vase. And if they put him in enough peril there was no way Ozpin wouldn’t step in to save him.

Right?

“Jokes on you!” He spat as soon as Emerald let him up again. He wasn’t given time to explain before cold water flooded his mouth again. His head smacked against het bottom of the fountain, rattling his skull yet again. But he got the small satisfaction of knowing he’d made her angry. He pried his eyes open to find the light, and was greeted with a thin layer of coins on the floor. To Oscar in his current situation it seemed downright absurd to imagine anyone doing something as mundane as tossing coins into a fountain. But it was exactly what he’d been doing earlier while he was out shopping. He laughed, a panicked jitter that forced out what little air he had left.

Time didn’t matter like it used to. Now there was only under water and waiting to go under. Finally, Emerald let go of his hair and his face fell sideways onto the lip of the fountain. She didn’t have to hold him down anymore, he wasn’t going anywhere under his own power. He filled his lungs as fast and as many times as he could. He felt like a hungry dog trying to eat too fast. He only slowed down when tunnel vision threated to close in on him.

It was because of the black spots Crowding his vision that he didn’t see Mercury immediately. Oscar registered that he’d joined them, standing in the middle of the square. At first, he flinched away, frightened that this meant he was in for double the pain he’d just been through. Then something caught his attention.  It was the thing Mercury was dragging in behind him. It was Jaune.

Oscar tried to push himself off of the fountain wall, but Emerald planted her elbow in the middle of his back and Oscar went down again. Mercury was saying something, but Oscar couldn’t read his lips and his voice still sounded underwater.

“Hey.” Emerald snapped in front of his face to get his attention. “You listening to me? You’ll tell us.” She warned, addressing him directly. “One way or another. After we torture this friend or the next. This doesn’t end until you tell us what we want to know, Ozpin.”

“I’m not…” But this time there was a boot on the side of his head.

“I know you can hear me. And I know you know it’s true. What kind of man calls himself a caretaker, a _protector_ and lets these kids go through all this just because you don’t wanna talk to us?”

They were right that hurting his friends would put him in mores distress. But it wouldn’t make Ozpin turn up. It didn’t keep Oscar from screaming. He was even less focused than before, and now the words poured from him, interrupted only by the times the water swallowed him up again. He was crying, begging, trying to reason those he knew he couldn’t reason with. Even as Emerald was holding him under and a salty absence of air flooded his mouth.  

Jaune was shouting too, sometimes in pain and sometimes words to Oscar. But he could only ever catch small pieces before his hearing was interrupted. Oscar reached for his weapon in vain. He knew he couldn’t reach it, but his muscle memory still tried to unpin his arms. Still tried to find the right angle that he could unhook it from his belt.   

It was endless. His voice was not his own. His mind not his own. Tortured for information he didn’t know and things he couldn’t control.

He’d bitten his lip at one point, and when Emerald gave him a break to listen to Jaune scream Oscar stared blankly down at the yellowing water below. He watched the blood drip from his mouth, creating small ripples over the surface.

“OZ!” He was crying again, hitching sobs forcing his chest to rise and fall. “Please! Help me! Ozpin! ANYONE!” But there was only silence in his own brain. An overwhelming isolation so intense that it was difficult to believe he’d ever felt like being the only person in his head was normal.

Only his own terrified face stared back from his reflection, the water turning orange with his blood now. He wasn’t going to die here, but that wasn’t a comfort. If Oz didn’t show up to pull him from danger again, he’d die painfully, slowly, and completely alone.

“Ozma!” He sobbed, legs kicking uselessly. “Please! I don’t—” but the words were lost.

“Oz I’m really disappointed.” Emerald sighed. Was that pity in her voice? Oscar hadn’t stopped struggling once, but Emerald was older and bigger and stronger than he was. It didn’t even take that much of her energy to hold him down.

Maybe that’s why she got lazy.

Either that, or she just lacked experience fighting someone that attacked like a cornered animal. Here, people fought with flashy weapons and semblances and in this moment Oscar had neither. But what he did have was a lot of experience with wild animals.

“Oz,” She gripped his chin in her hand and turned his face sideways so that he had to look at her. “You’re the only one who can put an end to this. Where are the relics, Oz?”

Oscar recognized the mistake the moment she made it.

“MY NAME IS OSCAR!” He pitched forward against her hold and bit down. Hard. His teeth sank into Emerald’s wrist, and she screamed. He’d been aiming to break her fingers but missed. Instead he caught the inside of her wrist and didn’t let go until he tasted blood. It wasn’t enough to make her let go, but it was enough to make her loosen her grip.

And that made all the difference. With the rush of oxygen Oscar felt super powered. Emerald cursed, striking him across the face hard enough to snap his head backwards. But he lunged forward, trying to bit her again. Emerald was a quick learner and yanked her head away. But that was what gave him an opening to throw his weight against hers, jabbing his elbow up into her ribcage.

Emerald yelped, and let go.

Oscar dropped to the ground and half crawled half ran in an attempt to reach Jaune. He slipped almost immediately, in what might have been a pool of his own blood or Emerald’s. His foot went out from under him, and his chin cracked against the tiled floor. By the time he’d gotten up again Mercury had something sharp pressed against Jaune’s neck.

That was enough to make Oscar stop. He stood in the middle of the square, breath fogging before him. Blood and water dripped from his nose.

“And what are you going to do _, kid_?” Mercury spat the word at him, it wasn’t at all like when Qrow said it.

“You want to hurt him? You’ll have to go through me!” Oscar said the words, but no one, not even him, believed them.  

Mercury laughed.

Oscar shook with equal parts fear and pain and rage. He readied his weapon, but didn’t move any closer. The word shrunk to the steps it would take to close the distance between himself and Mercury.

_Breathe._ A voice ordered him, and Oscar obeyed. The crushing loneliness lifted like a physical weight. Suddenly he wasn’t the only one standing in Mercury’s way.  

He spoke again and this time everything else shook. “You’ll have to through us!” This time his voice carried. It carried the weight of a life reincarnated. It carried years of experience. It carried lessons learned the hard way. Oscar adjusted his grip on his staff, not because he thought it was wrong but because it _felt_ wrong. His thoughts were too numerous and too fast for his own mind to process.

Mercury stopped laughing.

Oscar took a step forward.

Mercury took a step back.

That hesitation was all it took. That single moment was all the circling shape above their heads needed as a distraction. Oscar thought it was grim, right until Qrow dropped out of the air like a stone. He didn’t fall so much as propel himself straight down onto Mercury’s unsuspecting head. Just a moment before impact he pulled up, and a human Qrow crashed into the smaller man, taking them both crashing to the ground.

Jaune collapsed to the floor and stayed motionless. Oscar took a few stumbling steps towards him, until he heard Emerald behind him and had to spin on his heels to block her.

Oscar and Qrow had seen each other fight. They’d trained together, become familiar with the other’s style. But this time something was different.

Every movement was familiar in a way he’d never fought before. Every detail felt like a memory, every motion was déjà vu. Every time Oscar missed a beat or was too slow, Qrow was there by his side. And every time Mercury or Emerald thought they had an opening Oscar was standing in their way.

It felt like an eternity, but the fight didn’t actually last very long. All it took was a shared look between Emerald and Mercury before they were in full retreat. They were both smart enough to recognize when a fight wasn’t worth it.

Qrow spared a single glance back, then launched himself into the air; wings working furiously to catch up with the two escaping silhouettes.

“You alright?” Oscar turned just his head to look at where Jaune was still laying where he’d been dropped. His face was turned away from Oscar so he couldn’t tell if he was awake. But Oscar knew he wasn’t going to make it the five or six steps it would take to go check. He should try. Should move. But he couldn’t. He wanted to sit. Wanted to lie down and press his aching head to the solid ground.

“Jaune?” He tried a little louder. “You okay?”

A laugh, though strained, told him that Jaune wasn’t dead. Jaune huffed, rolling over onto his back. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m just fine.” Neither one of them believed it.

“Good.” Oscar nodded at him. Then pitched backwards, falling as deadweight onto the stone beneath him.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Oscar had been peacefully asleep until the light woke him. It was familiar, but no comforting. He eventually recognized it as Jaune’s. He’d seen that same glow before when he’d healed Weiss. Oscar’s first reaction was intense relief that Jaune really was alright. But that was quickly followed by the horror that he’d needed to heal someone. Oscar didn’t realize that he was the one that needed healing until he tried to sit up and found himself unable to.

In the dim glow Oscar could make out two shadows. In a moment of blind panic he tried to move away, hand reaching up for his own neck to protect himself.

“Oscar?” There was a hand on his chest, keeping him still. Qrow. That was Qrow’s voice. “Hey kid. Hey, stay _down_ Oscar.”

Oscar blinked. He struggled to understand the words much less follow the request they formed.

Qrow was mad. Oscar could tell even through the haze. His eyes were small and sharp, his voice barely under control. Oscar tried to apologize, but it came out as a vague hissing between his teeth. The last time he’d seen Qrow this angry, Oscar had been punched. He felt a hand crawl up his neck again and guilt washed over him.

"He’s just a kid.” Qrow fidgeted, excess energy pouring off him though he didn’t move. “I’m going to kill him. Really, I am. I’m going to track them right back to whatever hell hole they’re hiding in and kick their asses nine ways into next week for doing this to a kid. _A kid._ HE can’t even…. I’ll kill them.”

Qrow only snapped out of his rant when Jaune let out a particularly choked sounding sob. Oscar rolled his head to the right to get a better view, and was surprised to find that Jaune was crying.

“Thank goodness, thank goodness.” He looked pale and sharp in the absence of sunlight, leaning against Qrow’s shoulder and sobbing. His voice is warped by the tears but his strange mantra is clear. “thank goodness, he’s breathing. He’s breathing, Qrow. Thank goodness.”

Qrow’s expression softened, and he put a gentle arm around Jaune. “You did it Jaune, you got him. Good work.” He patted Jaune’s head awkwardly.

Oscar wanted to say something, but could only cough; a wretched hacking noise that made his whole body freeze up in pain. There’s blood everywhere, and Oscar wasn’t sure how much of it was his. Jaune’s face and neck were covered in it, and one of Qrow’s eyes was already swelling shut.

Jaune took a few breathes to visibly steady himself. But when he reached out Oscar flinched backwards. He hadn’t meant to, and was immediately mortified. After the instinct passed, he tried to school his body language into something that might make it look like an accident. But Jaune was a trained huntsman, and he recognized fear when he saw it.

He backed up, though he was still crying. Oscar wants to ask him why. He doesn’t know why Jaune is crying. He wants to ask why they’re all crying.

Jaune reached out again, slower this time. Oscar watched him wearily, but allowed it. When Jaune touched his hair, the side of his face it was gentle. It almost felt alien after the harsh day Oscar’s had. He began to relax.

Oscar sat up as much as he could, and the others gave him space. He had to lean his forehead against his knees to wait for the world to stop spinning.

“It’s my fault.” Oscar spoke between gritted teeth. “It’s my fault.”

Qrow made a sound in the back of his throat and shook his head. “No, Oscar.”

Oscar just blinked back at him. This wasn’t something he expected needed to be explained. The look of utter confusion on his face would have been funny were it in any other situation.

“But it…flower vase.” Oscar mumbled.

Jaune leaned forward to wrap his arms around a still shaking Oscar. Maybe it was the shock or the cold or the human contact, but it helped. Oscar breathed out. Once. Twice. Then flung himself forward into the embrace, mashing his face into Jaune’s shoulder. He wanted to say thank you, he wanted to say sorry. Instead all that came out was, “I miss my aunt.” It was childish and vulnerable and undignified but he couldn’t bring himself to be anything else in the moment.

“You’re okay.” Qrow’s voice is softer than he’s ever heard it.  “ _You,_ Oscar. None of this is your fault.”

“I got you.” Jaune says, and Oscar believed him.

He didn’t remember Qrow picking him up, but the next time he opened his eyes Qrow was carrying him. Oscar was slung over his shoulders like a child on a piggy back ride. Qrow had hold of one of his elbows, making sure he wouldn’t slide backwards.

“I can walk.” Oscar mumbled into Qrow’s shoulder. He smells like alcohol up close.

There were other sets of footsteps around him. But there’s too much of an echo to tell who is who. He wasn’t wearing his own jacket anymore, and a coat that both felt and smelled unfamiliar was wrapped around his shoulders.

“What’s that?” Qrow tilted his head, adjusting his weight slightly. “How are you doing, Oscar?”

It would take too much energy to lie. “cold.”

Oscar realized they were back at Saphron and Terra’s house because he was lying in someone’s bed. It was different from everyone’s usual sleeping arrangement and at first the confusion Crowds out everything else.

There were quiet voices to his left, and he wanted to turn his head to see but he can’t. There’s the sound of turning pages and Yang humming. For a long time, Oscar just listened.

When he did open his eyes he found Ruby sitting in a chair next to the bed so she was at eye level. He watched her for a little while, taking in her newly splinted fingers and fresh bandages snaking up her arm.

She looked over when the sound of Qrow startling himself awake fills the room.

"Nightmare?” Ruby asked in a quiet voice.

Oscar didn’t hear an answer, so either Qrow gave no indication or it was something non-verbal.

“You know Saphron says we don’t all have to sleep in here.”

Surprised by her words, Oscar tried to count the sounds of breathing so he can figure out who is in the room without having to move to see.

“Oh.” Ruby caught him watching the door and put her scroll down. “You awake?”

He moved just his eyes to look up at her. He wasn’t sure if the answer to her questions was yes or not, so he stayed silent.

Oscar could only see Qrow’s shadow growing as he moved closed. “You scared us, kid.”

“We were worried.” Ruby looked up to meet someone’s eyes across the room. “You with us?” Her voice barely broke a whisper. The room was now silent, waiting. When her question was met with silence her face grew dark.

“Oscar? Not Oscar?” Ruby continued down the list. “Ozpin? Someone? Anyone?” she paused. “Ozma?”

There was a hand running through his hair again

“Who are you?” Ruby sounded sad.

Who was he? It was impossible to sort out where he began and he ended. He was a tangle of auras and thoughts and feelings and he couldn’t begin to understand much less explain it.

_Who was he?_ It was a good question. He considered it—whoever he was—but ultimately came up blank.

“Does it matter?” He muttered before closing his eyes again.

 


End file.
